


The Soul Bird

by whichstiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 2018midwinter5k, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bats, Desert Island, Desert Island Fic, M/M, Shipwrecks, Soulmates, tropical island
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-14 20:54:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14144364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whichstiel/pseuds/whichstiel
Summary: Dean Winchester has looked forward to his twenty-fifth birthday for as long as he can remember. On that day, a sacred soul bird will visit and announce the name of his soul mate. Soul birds make love simple. But when a stormy sea swallows Dean's cruise ship, he finds himself stranded on a deserted island with Castiel Novak. On the island, he learns that nothing is simple. Not survival. Not soul birds. And not love.





	The Soul Bird

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to [sconesandtextingandmurder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sconesandtextingandmurder/pseuds/sconesandtextingandmurder) for her dedicated and expert beta reading.
> 
> I love Tropefest, ya'll.

**_Introduction_**

_Comic:_

_When you turn 25 a soul bird visits. Soul birds are distinct from other birds in two ways._

_One. Red feathers grow along their wings which resembles a heart when wings are folded._

_Two. The birds’ speech can only be understood by their intended recipient. Soul birds say one thing: the name of your soulmate. After they speak the name they leave without another word._

_Soul birds battle the elements, wait out recipients with immortal patience, and will not rest until their message is delivered._

**_June_**

“Let’s go on a cruise. It’ll be fun. Should’ve just taken a fucking plane,” Dean muttered as he dug his thumb into Benjamin’s bile-cracked skin and pulled his lips apart. Carefully, he tipped water into the man’s mouth. “Come on. Drink.”

Behind him, Castiel sighed. “I fear you’re wasting your time.”

Dean clenched his fingers around the lifeboat’s seat to keep himself from whirling around and punching the other survivor. “It’s probably just food poisoning from the damn buffet. If we can get him to—“

“He’s barely responsive. And the way he’s breathing… We need that water, Dean.” 

“He’s breathing fine,” Dean lied. Benjamin had started gasping as dawn painted the vast sky pink, and he’d only recently stopped long enough for Dean to try and get more fluids into him.

Dean turned to glare at Castiel. His once crisp collar was pulled up to shade his neck from the brutal sun; the fine gold watch on his arm was the only trace of the mysteriously wealthy man from the ship who’d smiled enticingly at Dean from the Captain’s table. Castiel wasn’t looking his way now. Instead, he shaded his eyes against the sun, no doubt scanning for land again. “We’ve just gotta keep him alive until rescuers find us,” Dean said, ready for another argument about priorities. Hunger and thirst gnawed at him, fraying his nerves to pieces.

Castiel flicked a quick glance at Dean before pointing silently towards dark clouds bubbling on the horizon. Dean’s stomach dropped as Castiel said, “If they’re out there, that storm’s going to get to us first.”

**_July_**

Starvation clawed into Dean. The lifeboat had been ill-equipped, and the stormy sea offered little. They’d landed on this tiny island only a few days ago and Dean’s bones still rattled with desperate exhaustion. That morning he’d fashioned a rock sling just like Bobby had taught him, planning to kill the small orange birds which flitted through the trees. When a gleaming black cormorant circled slowly overhead, Dean had whipped a rock at it eagerly and killed it with one blow.

The bird now lay sprawled between Dean and Castiel, its gleaming wings spread in a limp chevron on the cloud-shrouded dune. Wind scraped the beach, rattling palm leaves as another squall moved in. Dean’s stomach growled and he clutched it in shame as he looked down. The broken red heart patterned on the bird’s spread wingbacks seemed to glare at him balefully. “Cas, I—” Dean couldn’t finish the apology. He couldn’t look at Castiel, kneeling a few feet away from the bird. Horror rose like bile in Dean’s chest. “It was flying low,” he whispered hoarsely. “I thought it was easy prey. I couldn’t see the backs of its wings. And I… I didn’t know they could die. I’m so sorry, Cas.”

Castiel reached out a tentative hand. Slowly, he ran one dirty finger along the silken feathers of the bird, tracing the red. Waves crashed onto the beach, filling the silence between them with the urgent and relentless onslaught of the ocean. “I always wondered what my soul bird would look like.” he said. “Of course I don’t blame you. There was no way for you to know I turned twenty-five today. I’d lost track of time myself.” The only relief from his wooden expression was the flex of his jaw as he swallowed. 

“Maybe… Maybe you’ll get another. It never got a chance to talk to you. You should get a second chance.”

Castiel shook his head, his face falling into the grim look he’d worn since Benjamin died. “I don’t think it works like that,” he said. “I’ve never heard of it, anyway.” He tilted his chin towards the sky, squinting at the lightning-flecked horizon. He nodded once to himself, as though holding an internal dialogue, then said, “We should eat it.”

“What? Cas, no.”

Castiel glared at Dean, his lips drawing into a thin, severe line. Deep circles shadowed his eyes. “I’m hungry,” he said in a carefully measured tone. “These storms have been keeping fish away from shore, and none of my traps are yielding any… _goddamn_ thing.” He took a slow, deep breath and reached for the bird, gathering its limp legs into his hand. He pressed his other hand into a clump of sea grass and pushed himself upright with an exhausted groan. 

Dean stared longingly at the bird dangling from Castiel’s fist. It looked plump and abnormally large, and would feed them for a couple of days if they were careful. He hated himself as he nodded and stood to join Castiel. “We’d better hurry,” he said finally, not quite able to meet Castiel’s eyes. “Storm’s coming.”

He followed Castiel through the dunes back into the shelter of the little volcanic overhang they had discovered just off the beach. A small fire gleamed like rubies under the pitted roof. Castiel jerked his chin towards the wood and rushes they’d stacked in the back to dry. “Build up the fire,” he said, his voice emotionlessly level. “I’ll clean the bird.” He disappeared into the dense brush, the bird knocking pathetically against his thigh. 

By the time Castiel returned with the plucked bird, Dean had banked the fire for cooking. Tentacles of smoke curled along the walls of the little shelter. His fingers shook as he stripped two green branches with the folding knife he always kept in his pocket. The curled wisps of bark formed constellations where they fell onto the sand around the fire. 

Castiel slung the bird onto a matted bed of palm leaves. With the telltale red feathers gone the soul bird was no longer a sacred messenger. It was just food now - or so Dean tried to tell himself. They cut into it in silence, placing leaf-wrapped packets of meat in the fire and winding the remaining strips around sticks to cook it quickly before the next storm arrived. 

When fat raindrops began to fall they shifted to the back of the shelter, eating in silence. The fire warmed Dean’s feet and hands as he rested against the pitted stone and, despite his desperate hunger, he took small bites to avoid throwing it all up again. How long had it been since he’d had a decent meal? Days, he thought. 

“I’m sorry,” Dean said as he picked slowly at the cooked bird. 

“I know. It’s okay.”

Dean shook his head. “It’s not. But you know what? When we get rescued you can go to the Match agency. They’ve probably got your name on file, or will soon. Once your soulmate’s bird arrives they’re gonna be looking for you. With a name like Castiel, they’ll find you. Easy.”

Castiel snorted. “Are you always this optimistic? Or does getting stranded on a remote island just bring it out?” He stared morosely out at the sheets of rain turning the small island into a gray-green blur. “What if nobody ever comes?”

“Cas. It’s barely been a week. Someone’s gonna find us just as soon as these storms let up.” Dean drew his legs up and rested his chin between his knees. “Tomorrow we’ll work on clearing more space for a signal fire. I’m telling you, someone’s gonna come.”

**_November_**

Castiel’s bony toe jabbed into Dean’s side again. Dean groaned and wrapped his arm tighter across his eyes. “It’s hard to sleep when you kick me, asshole.”

“You mean it’s harder to pretend to be asleep.” Castiel said from where he stood, as sharp as a military commander. “Dean, you’ve been lying there for hours now. What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

“Not sick,” Dean mumbled. “Just tired. Just gonna get a little more—” He grunted as Castiel’s foot dug into his side again. Dean flung his arm away from his face and swung it into Castiel’s shin. Hard. “Back off,” he growled. Rushes whispered beneath him as he turned his back to Castiel. 

“Dean, you need to get up.”

“Do I? Really?” Dean screwed his eyes shut and curled his fists around his waist. He braced himself for another kick, muscles tense. “And why’s that?”

Castiel sputtered incoherently from somewhere behind him. “Survival,” he said finally. Wood clattered against the shelter wall and a small coil of guilt reared up in Dean’s gut. Castiel was doing Dean’s chores. 

Dean sighed. “Yeah, I know. Just… Tomorrow, okay?”

“That’s what you said yesterday.” Dean didn’t have any response to that. He lay on the ground, his body feeling like a lead weight anchoring him too solidly to their island prison. There was a rustle of clothing and the thud of a body settling on the ground. Dean flinched at the sound and then a warm hand closed around his ankle. Fabric brushed against his toes as Castiel settled next to him with a sigh. He wrapped his fingers around Dean's leg and sat there, as though giving Dean a tether to the world. After several minutes Castiel said, “I know this has been hard on you. But I need…” His grip tightened. “I need you to keep trying.”

“It should’ve been me on the lifeboat,” Dean said and to his horror the words cracked as the howling despair he’d tried to keep at bay wrapped itself around his chest and squeezed. He tried to swallow it down, holding his breath until the urge to disintegrate had passed. “I should’ve been the one to die. You’d be better off with someone else here.”

“This isn’t about that stupid bird again, is it?” The harshness of the question was undercut by Castiel’s gentle delivery. His thumb began to stroke soothing circles on the soft skin behind Dean’s ankle. 

“Woulda given you something to look forward to. Knowing who your soulmate is. Woulda given you some hope.”

“That’s not much help if we never get rescued.” At these words Dean shot a triumphant glance at Castiel who rolled his eyes at him. “I mean…we’ll get rescued,” Castiel said. He held Dean’s gaze. 

“It’s been months, Cas. You really think they’re still trying? You think they’d do that for just two people?”

“From what you’ve told me, Sam would never give up on—”

“Yeah well, Sam’s probably dead too.” The words, unspoken until now, seemed to settle like poison. He closed his eyes again.

“So that’s what this is about.” 

In response, Dean slumped further into the ground. He’d been the one to talk Sam and Eileen into the fateful voyage. The night of the storm he’d frantically looked for them but their lifeboat had already been lowered without him. He’d ended up in a boat with five others. Two of them had been lost in the first storm, and Benjamin had died days before they’d spotted land. 

Dean closed his eyes and imagined the look on Sam’s face as monstrous waves swamped his and Eileen’s boat. He pictured them dying of thirst, lost in the open ocean, or picked apart from below by sharks. 

“Never thought I’d see you give up,” Castiel said.

Dean snorted. “Yeah, well, you haven’t known me that long.”

“Dean.”

“Cas.” Dean kept his tone caustic but he knew he’d lost the moment Castiel’s hand moved away. He wanted to lunge up and seize his hand again, chasing that warmth and connection.

“I can’t do this alone,” Castiel said quietly. “Please.” 

Dean dug his fingers in between the rushes, feeling the brittle leaves slice at his fingers as they speared the sand below. Then, with more effort than it should ever take to sit up, he pushed himself upright. “Okay,” he said. He glanced at Castiel, intending it to be a brief look to measure his anger. Instead, Castiel looked tired and vulnerable with lines creasing his deeply tanned face. He worried at his thumbnail with his teeth. 

Dean fumbled for that hand, lacing their fingers together and brushing his thumb against the ragged nail edge. He still wanted to curl up on the ground and never get up again. But he'd try, if only to erase that look from Castiel's eyes. “Alright. I’m up.” He managed to stand without groaning then pulled Castiel up after him. 

They faced each other as the island breeze wove ribbons of salty air around them. Dean looked down at their linked hands

Castiel exhaled shakily. “Tide’s going out. Want to help me check the pools?”

It was a lifeline. Dean took it. He nodded and, hands interlaced, they made their way down to the beach together.

**_August, The Next Year_**

The late summer storm had wreaked havoc on the little island, toppling trees and leaving tangled detritus behind from its massive storm surge. Dean left Castiel behind to finish repairs to their small hut while he combed the shoreline for anything useful that might have washed up overnight. He scanned the shore with childish hope, wishing materials would conveniently wash ashore which would help them to fix the hole in their lifeboat. If they could only get off this rock, they’d have a shot at getting back home. They might stumble across a freighter or maybe even another cruise ship. Taking a chance on the water seemed better than spending another year on the remote island.

His toes dug into the waterlogged sand, a net full of felled coconut and beached sea life hoisted on his back. He would have missed the little animal buried in seaweed except for a feeble stirring. Dean pulled the tangled kelp back, expecting a stranded crab. What he saw instead was a tiny brown bat barely larger than a mouse. Its wings moved slowly against the sand, tiny joints struggling for purchase. 

“Whoa.” Dean crouched next to the small animal. “How’d you get here, little guy?” He looked seaward, where the thin blue horizon bound the seemingly endless ocean. “Tossed here from a ship just like us, huh?” Before he thought too much about it, he scooped up the small creature. Immediately, the tired animal burrowed into the warmth of his palm. It trembled against his skin. 

“You’re probably hungry, huh fella? Wonder what you eat?” The bat’s little wing joints dug into his palm weakly. “Fruit? Bugs? Yeah, probably bugs.” He laughed shortly. “Can’t catch you anything flying. No matter what Cas says, I ain’t that fast.” He squinted into the heart of the island, thinking. Then Dean stood and carried the bat into the jungle, stalking the sandy, overgrown ground until he found a felled log. He kicked at the rotten core with his heel until the wood shattered open in soft splinters, spilling out a few fat orange grubs. Dean picked up a wriggling grub and presented it to the bat. 

He laughed when the bat lunged, nearly falling from his hand as it pounced. Dean began to grin. “I’ve been there, buddy. Want another?” he asked, this time daring to hold it close to the little bat’s mouth. The bat snatched the grub, chewing it madly. Dean fed it two more until, seemingly sated, the little creature rested its chin on Dean’s thumb and closed its eyes, wings pulled tight in the warm cave of Dean’s hand. As quickly as it had snapped up Dean’s offering of food, the bat fell asleep. Dean looked at the bat for a long moment as overwhelming fondness for the little animal threatened to swamp him. 

Every day was a struggle on the island. Dean knew that he should lay the bat on a log and resume his search for real, practical things that would help them. Instead, he cradled the creature to his chest, wrapping his shirt around to shield it from the cooling breeze as he carefully carried it home. 

When he returned to their hut, Castiel glanced up from where he wove fronds into a frayed wall, then did a more thorough double take at Dean’s slow approach. He stood, a look of concern creasing his face. “Dean. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, man,” Dean said quickly, realizing how it must look for him to arrive with no net and his arms cradling his midsection. “I’m fine. Just found something and couldn’t carry the net back. I’ll go get it in a second.” Castiel drew close and Dean lifted his shirt.

Castiel’s eyes grew wide as he stared at the little bat huddling against the warmth of Dean’s stomach. “Is that a—?”

“Found the little guy tangled in some seaweed. Exhausted.” Dean laughed. “Hungry too.”

“So, you’re planning for us to…eat it?” Castiel frowned down at the creature, as though mentally calculating the amount of meat on the tiny bat’s bones. 

“Eat it? What? No, Cas.” Dean shrugged, instantly defensive. “I figured I’d…you know. Nurse it back to health?” He felt himself begin to turn red under Castiel’s incredulous stare. 

“You do need to save everything, don’t you?” Castiel looked exasperated but when he met Dean’s eye, a smile began to tug at the corners of his mouth. He sighed. “Fine. Give it to me and go get your net.” He proffered his hand and Dean instinctively wrapped his fingers closer around the sleeping animal. Castiel rolled his eyes so expansively that his chin tipped towards the sky. “I’m not going to eat it,” he said with a hint of amusement. “I’ll keep it safe until you return.”

When Dean returned at last, full net in tow, it was to find Castiel sitting with his back against a log, watching the sunset and crooning something soft and wordless to the little bat sleeping in the vee of his shirt. As Dean watched fondness swelled in him like a physical ache. “Oh my god,” he whispered at last. “I think I’m in love with you.”

**_October_**

Wind and rain raged outside. But no matter how fiercely the walls rattled, the storm inside was far more absorbing. 

Dean pressed his tongue into Castiel’s skin, running it along the graceful turn of his ribs with just enough pressure that Castiel sucked in a breath. “Careful,” he warned, hand tensed against Dean’s shoulder.

Dean grinned into his side. “I won’t tickle you,” he promised. As though sealing a contract he pressed his lips a little more gently against Castiel’s side, then slid one hand along the jut of his hip. Brushing his thumb along the edge of Castiel’s coarse hairs, Dean tilted his chin to see Castiel’s face. Very little light made it through the tightly lashed shutters; it was just enough to make out the lines of Castiel’s grin, teeth white in the gloom. “I’m gonna take care of you,” Dean said before dipping his chin again and taking Castiel into his mouth. 

Castiel moaned, hips shifting under Dean’s touch and he threaded one hand into Dean’s hair, curling his fingers along the nape of his neck. “Dean,” he groaned. “That’s… That’s good. Very—” his words trailed into gasps as Dean wound his tongue around the tip of his erection. 

Dean sucked him in deeper, hollowing his cheeks and flattening his tongue before pulling off again and surging up on his elbows to bite along Castiel’s lean stomach. He looked up through his lashes, bringing up one hand to Castiel’s lips. 

Castiel thrust softly against Dean’s shoulder and parted his lips, eyes gleaming in the odd storm light. He sucked in Dean’s finger like a promise, wetting it with his tongue. When Castiel opened his mouth again Dean moved his finger down, pausing at Castiel's entrance. He pressed slowly in until Castiel grunted his name again. 

When Castiel came it was with a sharp gasp, clenching around Dean’s finger, his own hands twisting into their shared bedding. Dean swallowed, tongue stroking skin as he pulled up and away. The next moment Castiel’s fingers were wound in his hair, hauling him up for a fierce, deep kiss. Between kisses Dean panted against Castiel’s lips, “Good?”

Castiel slid his hand down to grab Dean’s ass. “So good,” he said in his night-husky voice. He pushed and Dean let himself roll sideways onto the rushes. Castiel hovered over him, eyes bright and beautiful as he said, “Your turn.”

Dean closed his eyes, letting the sensations of Castiel’s tongue and hands wash over him. He pressed his lips together and moaned brokenly, not daring to speak. It had been a quick plunge from that first unplanned kiss in the ocean to sex. They’d devoured each other like starving men, letting their hands describe their need. When the words threatened to spill over, there was always something to do - chores, or sleep, or more kissing. They’d grown so close in their time on the island that sometimes Dean thought they could carry on a whole conversation by look alone. But those three words pressed up against Dean when they made love. He wanted to whisper them. He wanted to shout them.

Dean cried out as he came, feet pressed against the rushes and Castiel framed between his legs. Dean swallowed. Licked his lips. Blinked stupidly at Castiel as he shifted up to join him with a pleased grin. “Good?” Castiel asked, his eyes bright. 

In response, Dean surged against Castiel and kissed him again. Castiel laughed and murmured into his mouth, “And there’s my answer.” He pulled Dean to him, folding him into his arms. Dean brushed his nose along Castiel’s hair as it tumbled over his cheek, and then pressed a kiss along his jawline. _I love you_ , he thought as the wind howled around them. _I love you._

**_January_**

Castiel found Dean sitting in the corner of their hut with his knees drawn up against his chest. “Hey,” Dean said, mostly to fill the silence when Castiel hovered in the doorway. 

“I didn’t know it was your birthday,” Castiel said finally. Dean grunted in reply, staring at the floor until Castiel fastened the door, crossed the hut, and knelt in front of him. He tapped a gentle finger to Dean’s chin, encouraging him to look up and meet his eye. “How long has it been here?” Castiel’s eyes were wide and careful, like Dean was a spooked animal. 

Dean closed his eyes, picturing the pelican standing outside of the door with a perfect red heart patterned on its back. “Dunno. A while. I was going to work on prepping the boat for launch when it landed. And I ran.”

They were quiet while Castiel slowly stroked along Dean’s jaw in a soothing pattern. “Are you going to talk to it?” Castiel tilted his head. “You know it won’t go away until you—”

“I know,” Dean replied shortly. 

“You don’t want to talk to it,” Castiel guessed. “Is it because of what happened to my bird? I thought you were finished punishing yourself.”

“I’m not punishing myself.” Dean longed for a distraction but Castiel looked at him steadily, patiently. Outside, a soul bird waited for him. 

Dean sighed and let his head drop back against the palm wall. “You never got to hear the name of your soulmate. And that sucks. But lately I’ve been thinking about these birds. What if…what if they say a name you don’t want to hear? I mean, do you get a choice?”

Castiel traced circles around a frayed hole in Dean’s jeans as though it were the most fascinating thing in the world. “Well, you always have a choice. You get information from the bird but what you do with it…” He shook his head. “If it’s not me, it’s okay.” 

Dean drew in a sharp breath as pain lanced through his gut. “You’d really be fine with that?” he asked, not caring how plaintively the question emerged. 

Castiel closed his fingers around Dean’s forearm and waited until Dean met his eye. Then he said, “I’ll let you go if that’s what you want. But only if that’s what you want. I don’t want you to feel trapped. We’re finally about to get off this island. You’d have a chance...”

Castiel looked so concerned that Dean reflexively captured his hand, drawing it up to his lips. He felt calmer with Castiel’s hands folded in his own and said, “I should get a choice in who I love, Cas. It’s not fair. I don’t want to hear what the bird’s got to say. Because what if it’s not—?”

Castiel’s lips quirked to the side. “Is any of this fair? Or easy? Life on this island’s been hard on both of us. I miss everything about home. But you’ve made it bearable. No, more than bearable. You’ve made me happy. And no matter what happens, I’ll always have that. Dean, I…”

“I love you,” Dean said, half surprising himself. The words seemed to hang between them as Castiel gaped at him, speechless. All of Dean’s insecurities and doubts coiled up from his gut and started to twist and choke his lungs.

And then Castiel broke into a smile. “You love me?” he asked quietly. At Dean’s nod he said, “That’s good, because I love you too.” Relief shook Dean to the core and he wrapped both arms around Castiel, holding him close.

Much later, Castiel pulled back regretfully. “I should go check on the fish traps before the tide comes in. And you’ve got to talk to it so it’ll go away. Whatever it says won’t change the way I feel.” He pushed his hair away from his eyes and then grinned mischievously. “You know, we could always just eat it.”

Dean glared at Castiel, though a smile played at the corners of his mouth. “Not funny, Cas. Besides, I’ve got an idea…” Dean lowered his voice as he outlined his plan.

Castiel nodded slowly. “You may be on to something.”

“So we’ll do it?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good. You check the traps. I’ll...talk to the bird.”

* * *

When Castiel returned to the hut later the pelican was still there. This time it looked significantly irritated, fluttering its wings and clacking its beak. It glared between them as Castiel crowed, “You did it!”

Dean twitched the rope he had tied to the pelican’s leg. “I got the rope around its leg before it noticed what I was doing. And I told it that it’s not going free until it leads us to a ship or some kind of civilization. I think it understands.”

“I didn’t know birds could scowl,” Castiel said with a jubilant laugh.

The bird raised its wings and flapped once, sending up a cloud of sand in response.

They took turns guarding the pelican while they finished preparing the lifeboat they’d painstakingly repaired over the last year. When it was finally ready to launch, Dean looked back on the little hut they’d built. 

“Lot of memories there,” Castiel said, his eyes suspiciously bright.

“Yeah,” Dean fumbled for Castiel’s hand. “Are we taking Frodo?” 

In reply, Castiel opened the little sack he’d tied to his belt loop and revealed a mess of grubs and fruit. “Figured this might keep him with us long enough to find help. And then we’ll see, right? He’ll stay, or he’ll fly. His choice.”

“Yeah, we’ll see.” Dean kissed him swiftly. Then he crossed to the lip of the hut and coaxed the sleepy little bat from his perch and into his shirt pocket. “Come on, buddy,” he crooned. “We’re gonna try to get home.”

**_Two Days Later_**

The soul bird led them across the sea. It flew like a compass over the water until one of the spots on the horizon turned into a ship. Dean wept as it approached, but he held on tightly to the soul bird’s rope until a dinghy from the massive ship was lowered for them. Only then did Dean cut the soul bird free. They watched the pelican fly away over the stern until it disappeared against the burning sun. Then they grasped each other and waited for rescue. 

Later, after food, showers, fresh clothes, and jubilant satellite calls, Dean and Castiel sat on a small bench set along the port bow, a blanket pulled over both their shoulders. Dean looked down at their intertwined hands, roughened by nearly two years of hard work. Castiel’s wrist was bare, his gleaming gold watch long ago lost to the sea.

Castiel cleared his throat. He swallowed, then asked in a faux-casual tone, “So what did it say to you, anyway?”

Dean nuzzled his cheek against Castiel’s shoulder. “The thing about soul birds,” he said finally, “is that they’ll tell you the name of your soulmate once and then…they’re just done. You know Eileen never heard Sam’s name? Damn bird probably squawked it but it didn’t do her any good since she couldn’t hear it. Eileen had to wait for Sam to find her through Match.” Dean dug into his worn pocket and pulled out the impromptu ear plugs he’d formed from beeswax, then jammed in his ears before he’d gone outside to meet the pelican. 

Castiel stared at the ear plugs and then up at Dean. “So you never heard it?”

“Couldn’t hear a damn thing,” Dean affirmed. “Didn’t want to. I made my choice and it’s you, if you’ll have me. Who cares about fate? Destiny? I’ve got all I need in you. I love you, Cas.”

Castiel kissed him fiercely. “I love you, too,” he murmured against Dean’s lips. “So much.” They were still pressed together as the setting sun illuminated the first land birds swirling in from the approaching mainland.

**_Epilogue_**

_Comic:_

_“It’s your brother and his wife”_

_“He’d better still have my car”_

_“Sammy”_

_“Dean”_

_“Cas”_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/whichstiel) and [Tumblr](http://whichstiel.tumblr.com/) @ whichstiel. You may also like the Supernatural recap and gif blog I co-write/curate, [Shirtless Sammy](https://shirtlesssammy.tumblr.com/).


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